Edge of the Blade (Bryant Rockwell Book 4) Page 8

  “I can’t get over Lenny having a go at me like I was supposed to know all about it.” Kat seemed really upset.

  For once, Liv was subdued. “Maybe if we were her real friends she would have confided in us. I didn’t realise we’d grown so far apart.”

  “Stop being so blinkered. Don’t you see it’s because she cares so much she didn’t tell you anything?” Three pairs of eyes bored into his as he tried to explain. “Even your superb acting skills aren’t up to the total hurt and outrage when Lenny collared you.”

  “Are you saying you knew about it? What did she tell you, and why didn’t you say something to us? Acting all innocent when you knew all along.” Kat went into hyper-mode, her words crashing into each other.

  “Of course she’d tell him before the rest of us. He is her boyfriend; that’s kind of extra special.” Ray was only trying to help.

  For some irrational reason, it made Luke even angrier. He hated the way Jude wasn’t allowed to make her own choices without getting everyone fighting about it. But until Ray said it, he’d been trying hard to ignore the fact she hadn’t trusted in him enough to confide her plans to attend the inspirational talk of an Olympic ice skater.

  He felt a tad marginalised. Surely she must realise he fully understood where she was coming from? Sports were equally important to him. He was the first to admit he would never win any international medals, but a career as a rugby professional wasn’t wholly out of the question for him.

  As they all stared expectantly, he chose not to enlighten them about being left out of the loop. Some things were more important than his wounded ego. For Jude to stand any chance of pulling through this intensely stressful time, the last thing she needed was their outrage.

  He tried to keep it neutral. “I get where you’re coming from, but it would really help Jude if you guys could see it from her point of view. Right now, nothing is more important to her than skating. If this gold medallist gave her a piece of advice which helps her to win a competition, it will have been well worth the skive.” But maybe not the resulting aggravation.

  “I suppose she can always take the exam next year.” Liv’s statement caused raised eyebrows all round.

  Luke nodded, pleased he’d finally made progress. He just hoped they would all forgive her when the competition was over and she returned to her normal, fun-loving self. “Exactly. If you, of all people, can see that, surely anyone can. She needs our support more than ever now.”

  13 Grounded

  All the support in the world from her friends wouldn’t have helped Jude right now. She lay on her bed staring at the mobile of tiny ice skates Kat and Liv made her three years ago, mesmerised by the patterns created as they twirled above her. Any other girl might have done the whole clichéd bit of crying into her pillow after the latest in a succession of stinking rows with her father. But, despite her love of old movies, Jude wasn’t the pitiful heroine type.

  In retaliation for the missed exam, he reneged on his offer to drive her to the skating competition in Coventry, and forbade her mother to drive her, but he didn’t actually say she couldn’t go. He probably thought he had, but he spent so much time ranting about how she needed to get her priorities right, he overlooked that point. Not for the first time, he nagged about wasting all her time and energy on a hobby. The age-old tirade followed: How she had a duty to get herself the kind of education which would give her a decent job at the end of it.

  Except, to her, it wasn’t just a hobby. Thankfully, her mother had understood, taking on all the expenses without his knowledge. Jude wanted to spend the rest of her life doing this, at least until she was too old to compete. At which point, she could train – like Bernie did – or get into the show circuit. Look at Torvill and Dean, always on some TV show or other. Closing her eyes, she replayed her favourite fantasy: stepping up onto the highest podium, bending down for the gold, and cradling the flowers. But she had work to do first.

  A while later, an apologetic knock heralded her mum with a cup of tea and plate of conciliatory ginger nuts. She sat down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t want to pull you away from your studies, but I want you to understand your father didn’t mean some of things he said.”

  “So why say them?”

  “Because he’s not thinking straight. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

  “Because I’m too stupid?” Jude felt badly for being mean to her mum; it wasn’t her fault he couldn’t stand redundancy stress.

  Her mum recoiled from the anger. “I didn’t say that.”

  “No. I didn’t mean to have a go at you, Mum. I’m sorry. I know you support me every way you can. It’s not your fault your husband acts like a dick sometimes.”

  “Jude!!!”

  “Sorry, Mum. But if he’d even once come to watch, he could make an informed decision about whether I could make a career or not.”

  A sigh drew Jude’s attention: her mother looked disturbingly old and tired. For the first time, Jude understood what it must be like trying to keep the peace when she was torn between two of the people she loved most.

  “Don’t worry, Mum. I’ll play nice. One of us has to act like a grown-up.”

  Her mum’s naughty grin suggested an unspoken complicity, but Jude knew her mother would never openly dis the man she’d sworn to honour and obey.

  Playing the long game, Jude came down early to lay the table and help dish up, becoming the very model of a dutiful daughter throughout dinner. She could tell her mum was in bridge-building mode.

  “Were you doing biology homework, earlier? I used to be good if you ever get stuck.”

  “Aw, thanks, Mum. But it’s coursework and we’re not supposed to get any help. Part of it is to test our research skills. But I’m grateful for the offer.” She left it at that, not wanting to emphasise the difference between her parents’ investment in their daughter’s well-being. As though he would ever own his lack of parenting skills. She stood and collected the dishes.

  “Leave it, sweetheart. I’ll do it in a moment.”

  “No, Mum. You cooked. It’s only fair someone else should clear.”

  Organising Megan to stack the dishwasher, Jude scrubbed the greasy pans. Her madness had all kinds of methods as she listened in to her parent’s conversation.

  She was careful not to change her ritual of a goodnight kiss for both parents in any way, surprising her father. He obviously remembered earlier times when she’d been cold, sulky or withholding.

  Brushing her teeth, she thought over her revised plan based on what she’d learned over dinner. Her father was on a late shift for the next two weeks, which meant he never got up until after she’d left for school. He always slept like a log, so was unlikely to get up and stop her from going to those vital early-morning training sessions.

  Before skating consumed every waking moment Jude spent hours on PlayStation games and, somewhere along the line, she’d picked up a few tips about strategy. She had a short fortnight to convince her dad she’d taken on board his point of view and was prepared to toe the line over the competition. His late shift meant she didn’t see much of him; everything would have to go second-hand through her mother. But it could be useful; she was much more sympathetic to Jude’s dreams and so busy she would be less likely to check things thoroughly.

  Long after switching the light off, her mind still buzzed with all the things she had to set in place. She’d have to sort out how to get there and back and how to get from the station to the ice rink. And work out costs for travel, food and … finally she drifted off to a sleep disturbed by a lonely, exciting journey, victorious cheering at the end of her routine, and something dark and sinister which ended in a loud and violent row with her parents.

  Her Saturday started well with a brief, early-training session where she arrived early for once. Bernie seemed uncommonly cheerful, and she decided not to mention anything just yet. It made sense to get in as many training sessions as she could. Past experience predicted the strong possibili
ty her dad might come around or, more likely, forget he even banned her.

  After the warm-ups, he asked for a straight run through, clapping at the end. “It was good, but you know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

  “The pause before the penultimate verse.”

  “I get why you feel the need for it, but does it have to be so long?”

  She disguised her frustration by reaching up to the ceiling and wriggling out her shoulders as though she hadn’t warmed them up properly. It seemed no matter how she tried, she could not explain this in words he could understand; it was an ongoing battle. Maybe they could reach some kind of compromise. “Ok. From the previous verse.”

  While he cued the music, she thought back to their third lesson when she’d explained how most of her ability had nothing to do with her, it came from the music. He hadn’t understood, claiming they simply had to pick any old piece of music with good accents and changes of pace, and fit in some flashy sequences. Then she just had to train hard to get the moves technically correct and the timing spot on.

  In their first couple of years together, he insisted on doing all the choreography on the grounds she had no experience. He was right, and she focussed all her energies on learning the basic techniques. When she’d reached a level of proficiency, if he tried to include a jump or spin at a particular point in the routine and the music didn’t agree, she failed every time. After a couple of weeks of shouting and tears, he let her demonstrate her ideas and they had a complete breakthrough.

  Gradually, he stepped back, simply suggesting the moves he’d like to see. He let her choose the music and put the jumps and spins where the music said they should go. He wasn’t entirely happy, but had no choice except to go along with her judgement. Once he got used to this way of working, he was happy with the end results. Usually.

  As the music began, she tried it his way, stopping a little later, then starting a little earlier, but in both cases, when he played back the footage on his phone, he saw how it looked mistimed and gave in.

  “Ok, you win. Now, let’s have a quick go at those triples. I noticed a little wobble on the dismount.”

  Jude resisted the well-deserved eye-roll, focussing instead on the wealth of experience which made him the most sought-after trainer in the area.

  At the end, he couldn’t find anything to criticise, so she got back in time to empty the dishwasher and start the breakfast before her mum came down. After an hour on homework, her parents finally went shopping and she slipped downstairs, going onto the Internet to check out some sites. It all went downhill from then.

  No trains ran directly to Coventry, and the ones changing at Birmingham seemed badly timed. The connections either overlapped by five minutes or she’d have been waiting almost two hours. The only suitable bus left at a ridiculous hour to get there in time, and she didn’t travel well on long coach journeys. The only sensible option would be to travel down the night before, but it would mean finding somewhere to stay on the Friday night. What with food and everything, this would use up all of her savings.

  If only she had someone she could talk to. Bernie would feel honour-bound to tell her parents; he might even take their side. It wouldn’t be fair to involve Liv and Kat; they’d only get into trouble and even they would never fully understand. Only Luke might, but she would never risk his involvement; her dad was already looking for any excuse to stop her seeing him. Nope, no one could help. She closed her eyes, just for a second, but the week of early starts took its toll.

  “Sea-life centre? Planning a trip for half term?”

  At her dad’s question, she sprang awake. Luckily, she’d accidentally clicked on a link, so the incriminating screens showing travel to Coventry were not visible. Her father expected a reply, so she had to explain it away. Thankfully, she was good at quick thinking, having had plenty of opportunities.

  “Homework. We had to pick an area and research a family day out. I got the West Midlands.”

  “Is this geography?” Her mum’s question smacked more of genuine curiosity than mindless interrogation.

  “ICT coursework. We have to evaluate the usefulness of the information on the web and compare it to real life.”

  “Sounds ambitious.” Her dad frowned, glancing at the screen. “I suppose you’ll be on my computer all day.”

  I wouldn’t have to be if you’d let me have the Internet in my room. She suppressed the rant as another day’s battle. “Pretty much. Is that a problem?”

  Her father’s hesitation said yes. “You can’t do it on your phone?”

  “I can research, but I need to copy the data and get screenshot evidence for the report.”

  His grumpy face gave her an idea how to earn some Brownie points. “Ray’s my partner; we could do it together round at his place.” As she spoke, a thought struck her: It wasn’t too far removed from one of the suggested coursework tasks. In fact, if she could persuade Ray, it may even give better results than their original choice: music downloads.

  Her dad thought the sun shone out of Ray after chatting to him at the Christmas party. No danger of his halo getting broken, just a bit tarnished, maybe. She didn’t stop to think of the consequences: how Liv might feel about Jude hijacking her boyfriend, let alone how Luke would react.

  Things took an upward turn when she got to Ray’s. He got straight on board with her suggestion for the ICT coursework, enthusing about the scope, which would mean a higher grade. She didn’t even have to mention why she wanted to work out train fares to Coventry.

  Her dad seemed impressed with the extra hours she put in on this project, happily letting her use his computer every night to crack on with it. He even offered to proofread the finished report.

  She actually enjoyed the work, discovering a talent for organising and presenting information she didn’t know she possessed. Even Ray complimented the way she’d laid it out, calling it clear and logical.

  Only Liv didn’t seem happy about the new, improved, studious Jude. All the extra time Jude spent with Ray caused Liv’s green-eyed monster to surface. The first sign was the eyebrow, known to kill at twenty paces. Then came the odd huffy flounce, escalating into snarky comments on the bitchy end of the spectrum.

  Although it wasn’t pleasant to wind Liv up like this, a detached, ruthless part of Jude knew the necessity of alienating her friends. No way could she give any clues about her plan. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust them, but the more people who knew, the greater the risk. It would only take a stray comment in front of the wrong person … She shuddered. Even accidentally, it could result in the destruction of everything she’d worked for all these years. And she knew a couple of people who would take a great delight in doing that.

  Ok, maybe she’d overdone the melodrama, but right now, nothing in her life was more important. “Not even Luke?” A little voice whispered in her head, but she ignored it. So even though the hurt look on Kat’s face made her feel sick, she widened the distance between the rest of her friends, only working with Ray on the ICT.

  14 Liv Loses the Plot

  Liv barely listened to a word Becky said as they worked on the joint project. Her eyes kept straying to where Jude’s strawberry-blonde curls intermingled with Ray’s dark locks like they were two halves of a peculiar, two-tone wig.

  She’d convinced herself the initial attraction between her boyfriend and her best friend had dissolved when Jude finally hooked up with Luke after the longest non-courtship known to man. But residual self-esteem issues still haunted her, months after losing a couple of stone.

  No part of Liv believed Ray would rather go out with her than someone with Jude’s Greek Goddess attributes. He was, after all, no slouch in the yummy physique department, courtesy of a decade of swimming at county standard. Followed by intensive upper-body workouts after his legs failed him.

  Eventually, Becky’s hissed warnings to stop staring pierced Liv’s musings, and she focussed dutifully for the rest of the lesson, trying to curb her jealous inner
voice.

  Back home, Liv sat at her desk, staring at the latest print of her ICT project as though her laser vision would automatically correct any remaining typos and inspire her with words for the evaluation. But her mind insisted on assessing every time Ray’s eyes crinkled when he spoke to another girl. And he had so many beauties to choose from, all desperate to impress the new guy when he rocked up in his wheelchair, full of defensive attitude and pithy put-downs. So many girls were prepared to ignore his only drawback: the inability to walk. Imagine how many more would be throwing themselves at him when they found out he could? Liv didn’t stand a chance, especially against Jude.

  Although she refused to believe her friend could be that fickle, a whole lifetime’s worth of insecurities blinded her to Jude’s natural sense of honour and integrity. The unexpected academic success had unsettled: Jude didn’t do geek any more than Liv did sports. She felt a momentary twinge of remorse at the idea she could be so shallow about her best friend’s achievements.

  Putting the blame on the ICT project, Liv decided to focus on her English homework instead. She’d been tasked with analysing a scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, rewriting it in modern-day idioms, and adding stage directions. Her heart jolted as she picked out the speech she’d used to reply to Jimmy’s invitation to the sixth form Christmas disco. The date which had nearly been the scene of her undoing.

  She read the verse aloud. “By all the vows that ever men broke …” A sharp pain seared through Liv’s skull, forcing her eyes closed. The blackness did nothing but provide a perfect viewscreen for a movie to play out in her head. A movie where she played the heroine: the sort of victim who made stupid choices, leaving herself open to abuse, nay, asking for it. Literally. Every sassy phrase echoed in her head as she relived the pool room scene.

  Stop looking as though you could eat me.

  Nothing but water shall pass through these lips.